all the way home i'll be warm
by nrynmrth
Summary: In which Alex and Ben drink to Ian Rider's parenting skills (or lack thereof), among other things. For the 2017 holiday fic exchange prompt "Alex attends a celebration (doesn't have to be Christmas) with another canon character and that person's family; rated K-T."


A/N: Welcome to my obscenely late response for SpyFest's Christmas fic exchange! I was going to post this on the 25th, but then I fell asleep and then I had issues uploading my document and other assorted excuses. Anyway, many apologies, especially to whoever requested this prompt: "Alex attends a celebration (doesn't have to be Christmas) with another canon character and that person's family; rated K-T."

In other news, I've basically been crying my eyes out every day, mostly for Doctor Who (seriously, the amount of crying I do over that show is absurd). I finally started watching Twelve and Peter Capaldi is one of the greatest actors I've ever seen (if you don't mind some truly foul language, watch _The Thick of It -_ it's amazing). I'm not ready for him to go yet. And Nine and Rose have been assaulting me with feels in the middle of the night, so cue more tears.

Just...feels all around. So if you've stuck around through this impossibly long A/N, enjoy this mildly fluffy holiday fic, and happy hols to all of you!

Disclaimer: Does it need saying? (and now I'm thinking of Ten and Rose on that beach jfc)

Title shamelessly stolen from "Let it Snow" because it's the hols and Christmas carols are some of my favourite things ever.

* * *

"I thought I'd find you here."

Alex doesn't bother to turn, tipping the tumbler back and allowing the alcohol to burn down his throat. "Where else would I be?"

Ben settles in beside him, signalling the bartender for a glass and twisting open the bottle Alex has been nursing.

"How was…Paraguay, was it?"

Alex shrugs. "As miserable as you'd expect. Tore open my back on some barbed wire, got patched up at St. Dom's, turned my report in to Jones, and now I'm trying to destroy my liver as fast as possible."

"Can't stay in the house?" Ben asks, no trace of pity in his voice.

Alex thinks of the house his parents lived in for three months before they died, the house his uncle and Jack raised him in, the house that's too cold, too empty, too full of memories. He nods.

"Something like that." He braces his arms on the bar, ignoring the burn in the torn flesh of his shoulders as the familiar weight of guilt settles onto him. "You know how it is."

"I know that you need to get out of there," Ben offers softly. "Come over to my place?"

Alex huffs a mirthless laugh. "Yours is just as empty as mine, Ben," he says, turning on his stool to regard his partner. "What would be the point?"

Ben meets him look for look, refusing to flinch under Alex's gaze. "It's not," he counters softly. "It's not empty."

Alex sits up, all traces of weariness gone. "They came." It's not a question, and when Ben's nod comes, Alex can't stop the slight smile from spreading across his face. "So they've—"

"They've made their peace with it, yeah," his partner confirms softly. "I doubt my family'll ever be completely happy with my choice to join the army, not now that my brother's followed in my footsteps, but they're willing to let it go since I seem to have ditched the military for a _bank…_ "

Alex smiles wryly. "Can't say I can relate, considering my uncle was training me to be a spy since before I could walk," he says, raising his glass sardonically. "To Ian Rider and his impeccable parenting skills."

Ben raises his in reply, drinking deeply and setting it down with a sigh. "Right pair we make, me avoiding the only family I've got left—"

"—and me without any family to avoid," Alex finishes dryly. "Any reason you're avoiding them?"

"Because it's bloody awkward," Ben answers promptly. "My brother isn't coming over till later, and my parents haven't got any idea what to say to me, seeing as how we haven't spoken in years."

Alex huffs a laugh. "Fair enough."

"There's something else," Ben begins almost inaudibly, and Alex watches him patiently, pouring himself another drink.

"Remember a few weeks ago, when I was in the hospital?" Ben asks at last.

Alex winces at the reminder, setting his glass down with more force than necessary at the memory of his partner lying unconscious and bloodied in a hospital bed. "I remember."

"Yeah, well, somehow my aunt found out. She called my parents, and, well…"

"You want to tell them why," Alex completes with a flash of understanding. "You want to tell them what you do."

Ben nods from beside him. "Jones gave me permission; I've got copies of the OSA in my bag. And my brother's going to be a recruit with the SAS, so my parents'll have _two_ children serving in spec ops...it's time they knew."

Alex is silent for a moment. Ben's voice is carefully neutral, but there's an edge of fear and worry running beneath it. "Want me to come with you?" he offers quietly, turning his gaze back to his glass and swirling the amber liquid slowly.

"And when they ask how you knew? If they find out about me, they find out about you," Ben warns softly.

Alex looks at him, at the man who's saved his life again and again, the man he'd die for. "Then they find out."

"Thank you," Ben breathes. "God, I can't face them alone. Not after—" his mouth tightens as he looks down at the bandages his sleeve doesn't quite cover.

Silently, Alex knocks back the last of his drink. He slides a few notes over to the bartender and stands.

"Coming?"

Ben grins at him, tugging his sleeve down and standing beside him. "Yeah."

-o-

Ben stops outside his front door, glancing over. For once, his face is devoid of a spy's expressionless mask, nerves and worry sliding over his face like shadows.

"Alex…"

Alex slips his hand into the other man's, offering silent support. "It'll be fine," he assures his partner softly.

Ben's smile is a weak copy of itself. "Yeah." He inhales deeply, then jerks the door open, closing it almost silently behind the two of them as they enter. Instantly, Alex is assaulted with the warm scent of holiday baking, stirring up memories of an achingly familiar redhead and Christmas cookies. _Oh, Jack_. Then Ben's leading him into the kitchen, and Alex shoves the memories down with a slight shake of his head, following after his partner.

All conversation stops when they enter, the three people in Ben's tiny kitchen staring at the two of them.

"Hi," Ben starts awkwardly, features reverting to their usual blankness in the face of an uncomfortable situation.

"Ben!" The youngest man is the first to speak, hair shorn in a military cut and bearing speaking to his training.

"Sam," Ben returns. "You beat me here. How's it going?"

The younger man grins. "It's good, yeah. Can't say I'm looking forward to the training, but I can't wait to serve."

Alex huffs a near-silent laugh, disguising it as a slight cough that draws the attention of the others in the room.

"Who's this?" Ben's mother asks, appraising him with cool grey eyes.

"Alex Rider," he greets her quietly, shaking her hand and meeting her gaze squarely.

"Alex, this is my mum, Jane, my dad, David, and my brother, Sam."

Alex nods at each of them as Ben introduces them, shifting subtly closer at the discomfort in his partner's voice.

"How do you two know each other, again?" Jane asks, eyebrows raised.

"We work together," Alex answers, and her eyebrows snap together.

"At the bank, or…before?"

A faint note of disgust enters her voice at the mention of Ben's military service, and Alex crushes the slight growl he feels building in the back of his throat.

"The bank, yeah." Ben squeezes his hand where his family can't see, and he calms slightly.

"Food?" David suggests when no one breaks the silence, and the rest of the Daniels family jumps at the subject change, all serious topics forgotten in the chaos of pans and plates.

-o-

It's not until they're clearing away the last of the plates that things grow awkward again.

Ben carries his plate over to the sink, glancing over at Alex and raising an eyebrow in silent question.

Alex returns his gaze. _Now?_

His partner shrugs almost imperceptibly. _Good a time as any_.

Alex gives him a tiny nod, and they move back to Ben's living room, Alex leaning against the wall beside his partner in silent support.

"When do you head out, Sam?" Ben asks. He's the picture of impassivity, stance casual, but Alex can see the tightness of his shoulders and the way his eyes linger on the door.

"Couple more days," his brother replies easily. "Should be a right hoot."

"Oh, it's hell," Ben agrees, "but you'll come to love soggy old Wales after a while."

It's almost comical how quickly the rest of his family freezes.

"I beg your pardon?" his mother demands at last. "You were in the army—"

"I was," Ben confirms calmly. "And then I joined the SAS."

Sam speaks up, then. "You never told us." He makes no attempt to keep his emotions in check, bewilderment and mild betrayal flashing over his features.

Ben laughs mirthlessly. "You wouldn't have cared," he tells his family softly. "You were already against me joining the army. To find that I'd signed up for the SAS would've been too much."

"It's in the past," his father says when his mother opens her mouth to speak again. "It's over with. He's a _banker_."

Ben tenses beside him, and Alex sighs. "He's not," he contradicts quietly, and all eyes turn to him.

"What do you mean he's not?" Ben's father asks, puzzled, and Alex turns to his partner, gesturing toward Ben's left sleeve.

"Show them."

Ben watches him for a moment, naked worry in his eyes. And then he takes a deep breath and slides up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the thick white bandages that wrap past his elbow.

"What happened?" Sam demands, but Ben just shrugs.

"I got shot."

"Doing _what_?" his mother hisses, concern warring with anger on her features.

Ben's eyes beg Alex to take over, and the younger spy sighs softly. "His job."

"I don't understand," David frowns, glancing between his son's injury and Alex's expressionless face.

"He got injured doing his job," Alex repeats. "Occupational hazard."

"You're not a soldier," Sam speaks up, eyes narrowed. "What could you possibly be doing as a _banker_ that counts getting shot as an occupational hazard?"

"I'm not a banker," Ben explains quietly, and Alex hears him take a deep breath. "I'm a spy."

There's dead silence in his kitchen for all of thirty seconds before all hell breaks loose.

"Excuse me?"

"What the hell do you mean, a spy? Like James Bond?"

"Ben, what are you talking about?"

"Enough!" Alex barks at last, and his partner throws him a grateful look. "He's a spy. The Royal and General Bank is a front for MI6."

Silence again…and then Ben's brother laughs. "And I thought I was the first to go into spec ops."

"Sam!" his mother gasps, but the young man just shakes his head.

"Come on, Mum. He's your son—can't you just be proud of him and let it go?"

"He could die!" she fires back, cheeks flushed.

"He might not," Sam counters. "How do _you_ know about all this, anyway?" he asks Alex, pointedly changing the subject.

"How'd you think?" Ben asks tiredly.

"We work together," Alex elaborates when they still don't seem to understand. "We—actually, Ben, might want to have them sign it first."

His partner nods. "Here," he says abruptly, withdrawing three familiar-looking files. "The Official Secrets Act. You can't tell anyone," he urges, then stops, closing his eyes. "I sound like a bloody spy movie," he mutters to Alex, running a hand through his hair.

"If it's so secret, why'd you tell us?" David asks, and Ben suddenly looks so, so tired.

"Because Sam's joining the SAS. There's a fair chance you'll run into me, or into Alex," he tells his brother, "and you should probably know why." He pauses, glancing at Alex for a moment. "And also because you've got two children serving and there's a very real chance either of us might die."

Alex flinches, again seeing Ben's battered body in the hospital. "Ben," he starts, pained, but his partner cuts him off.

"You've been in this business longer than I have," he counters evenly. "You know it's true. More so for us than for Sam, but it's dangerous. I've been injured more times than I can count, and I almost died last month when Aunt Eleanor called you. I'd rather you hear it from me than at my funeral."

There are tears in Jane's eyes as she looks at the file, David's gaze locked stoically on the paper. Even Sam's quiet, flipping through the pages thoughtfully.

"Can I have a word?" Alex asks softly, gesturing to the hall.

Ben nods, casting a single glance back at his family before following Alex to the window of his living room. "What is it?"

Alex smiles wryly. "Hell of a Christmas."

Ben exhales, nodding. "Yeah. Not exactly how I imagined it, but…best I'm going to get, I suppose."

"Least they're here," Alex offers, and his partner nods.

"Yeah. Flat's not empty anymore, which is more than I can say for the last few Christmases."

"You and me both, mate," Alex agrees.

"I never really said…thanks for coming with me." Ben's blue eyes are serious when Alex looks over. "It—I couldn't have done it alone."

Alex shrugs. "What are partners for? I'd say you'd do it for me, but you'll never have to." A flash of bitterness, then, at the fact that spying destroyed his whole family. Alex blinks it away slowly. "It's almost Christmas," he observes absently, the glowing numerals on his watch declaring five minutes remaining before Christmas day.

"I'll be right back," Ben says suddenly, returning to the kitchen and leaving Alex to his thoughts.

Alex sighs, letting the scent of the holidays wash over him. He turns, surveying Ben's living room, eyes alighting on the tiny tree that had to be the work of Ben's mother considering its lavish decorations. The memories flash behind his eyes, his eight-year-old self begging Ian silently to not leave at Christmas and the two of them teaching Jack to pull a Christmas cracker on the one year they'd all spent the holidays together.

"Here," Ben says, emerging from the kitchen with a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers, and Alex jerks out of his reverie. "Since I dragged you away from the pub."

Alex accepts the glass, staring out at the stars as his partner pours himself a drink.

"Happy Christmas, Alex," Ben murmurs, raising his glass, and Alex raises his in turn.

"Happy Christmas, Ben," he returns, voice equally soft, and then they drink as a star blazes a path across the night sky and the clock turns over.

* * *

Time to go listen to the soundtrack from _The Greatest Showman_ (seriously, seriously great film, 100% recommend), but before I go...review?


End file.
